The funeral was finally over. George had thought it would never end. Time had dragged and dragged. He had thought that before it ended he would not be able to take anymore and break completely.

So far George was still somewhat ok. The shock of his twin's death had not quite subsided yet. Part of him wanted to let go of the feeling of nothingness inside of him, but the other part just wanted to stay numb, cold, and alone.

People began to drift off. At last his family began to depart from the cemetery to return to the Burrow. His mother hung back.

"Come on, Georgie," she said. George grimaced. He'd always hated being called that.

"I- I'll come later… soon," George managed to get out. He needed time alone. His mother nodded. She understood.

Everyone was gone now; he was alone, truly alone. It felt so wrong. He'd never really been alone. Fred had always been there, in a way, even if they were physically apart. They'd had a connection. Fred had always known George was out there somewhere. George had always known Fred was out there somewhere.

Until the moment Fred died. As soon as it happened, George knew. He didn't quite know how, but as soon as Fred had left the world, an empty feeling George had never felt before had swept through him and he'd known.

George looked down at the freshly dug grave. "Fred Weasley, April 1, 1978- May 23 1999, Mischief Managed" was all that the gravestone read. It had been Harry who'd suggested the "Mischief Managed" part. George would have done it, but he didn't think he'd be able to.

It had been the first time he'd actually taken in what was around him since entering the Great Hall at Hogwarts to find Fred's empty shell of a body. George shuddered and sank to his knees beside the gravestone. Groping for something solid, his hands grasped at the gravestone. His fingers ran over his brother's name unconsciously.

"How do I go on without you, Fred?" George asked.

Silence.

"You were always the leader," he continued, "You had most of the ideas, you were the stronger of us, you were more outgoing…"

He trailed off, his words running dry. George felt wetness sting his eyes and his first tears fell. Somehow, it felt good to finally cry. It felt like some of the pain was finally releasing itself from him. George let the tears fall until they, too, ran dry.

"A part of me, the part of me that lived in you and connected us, died with you," George told the gravestone, though he knew Fred wouldn't hear and that Fred wouldn't be there to console him like he always had when George had been hurt. "How do I go on without part of myself? I'm not whole anymore, Fred…"

George stopped abruptly. He wasn't completely alone anymore.

"I'm sorry to intrude," an airy voice said from behind him, "I couldn't make it to the funeral, but I wanted to come."

George turned his head. It was Luna Lovegood. She stepped forward and placed a flower on the grave.

"I didn't know him well, but I supposed I should pay him respect anyways," she said. George nodded slightly. Why was it so much harder to find things to say now? Maybe it was because so much of his conversations had included Fred and half of what he'd said was to finish his twin's sentences, rather than his own.

"I couldn't help but overhear what you said," Luna looked at him with her big eyes. George couldn't bear to meet her gaze.

He grunted in response.

"And I couldn't help but wondering," she continued, "if a part of you lived in him, wouldn't a part of him lived in you?"

"I suppose," George wondered what the bloody hell Luna was getting at, though he supposed with her that was a common occurrence.

"And also," Luna spoke again, "If the part of you that lived in Fred died, wouldn't perhaps the part of him that was in you still be alive?"

George didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Luna stood up and started to walk away, but turned back to say one last thing.

"You'll never really be alone, George," Luna smiled absently and began to skip off. George felt anger rise in him momentarily. How could she be happy?

George looked back at Fred's gravestone. He supposed he should return home soon, but part of him never wanted to leave. He never wanted to let go of Fred.

But would he have to? George thought about what Luna had said. For once, she had said something that made slight sense to him.

Wouldn't perhaps the part of him that was in you still be alive?

It was a comforting thought really. George stood up, still looking down at the grave.

You'll never really be alone, George.

George smiled slightly. It was the first time he'd smiled since Fred had died.

"G'bye, Fred," George said and then whispered, "Don't have too much fun in Heaven without me."

George turned away from the grave and found a secluded place where he dissaparated back to the Burrow where the rest of his family waited for him.